


The Essence of Love

by Originalpuck



Series: Violets Are Blue [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/F, Gardens & Gardening, Herbology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Originalpuck/pseuds/Originalpuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love helps everything grow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Essence of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Stealing Your Love."

Hermione stared from the book that Neville loaned her, to the small plant, and back again. No matter how hard she tried, the bloody violets just weren’t growing! They were the one thing that she’d been determined to grow when she’d convinced Fleur that they needed their own garden, but it was also the one thing that wasn’t quite working.

She had started it in a pot, than put it in the soil, than put it back in the pot. She’d tried singing to it, petting it, and even some magical weather spells. She’d tried everything in every book that she could find.

Sighing, she leaned back on the bench she was sitting on and just stared down at the potted violets at her feet. Well, fine. If they wouldn’t grow, at least she could enjoy the rest of their garden. The blackberry hedges had grown just fine as a barrier to their garden, the hydrangea were doing wonderfully, and Fleur’s roses were turning out perfect.

She smiled as she remembered the first time that a rose had bloomed, and Fleur had immediately cut it and brought it in for Hermione as a gift. Hermione had shrunk, preserved it magically, and then put it in a locket that she wore whenever she could.

Still, Hermione wanted to badly to return the favor. But her stupid violets just weren’t growing. Maybe if she –

Hermione was picking the book back up, flipping to the page on proper sun exposure and how to imitate it, when she heard the familiarly soft footsteps of her wife. She looked up, and tried to smile.

Hermione could tell, from Fleur’s raised eyebrow, that she hadn’t managed a very effective grin. “Hermione? Are you okay? You have been out here for quite a while.”

“I give up!” Hermione said. She gestured down at the violets. She was so upset she felt tears brimming. “I’ve tried everything Fleur, I really have. Even Neville isn’t sure why they aren’t growing, and he’s a Professor now!”

Fleur sat down next to her on the wooden bench, and passed Hermione a small cup of tea. Hermione looked at it, in its flower-patterned cup, and sighed. “Try some,” Fleur said. “It might help you to come up with other solutions.”

“Does it have a hidden clue in it somewhere?” Hermione countered. “Because I don’t see any floating pieces of parchment.”

Fleur grinned. “No. But sometimes relaxing can help you to think better.”

Hermione shrugged her acknowledgment. It was true. Hermione thought well under pressure for many things, but gardening wasn’t one of them.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Hermione exhaled heavily and leaned against Fleur, bringing the cup to her mouth. Fleur’s shoulder was nice and warm, and the tea was a wonderful taste of chamomile and something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “It’s lovely Fleur. What’s in it, other than the chamomile?”

At this Fleur smiled, and set down her own cup, so she could wrap her arm around Hermione’s shoulders. It was perfect, and warm, and the best place in the world to be. Even if her violets weren’t growing and oh now she was miserable again, but Fleur kissed her head before speaking and that helped a tad. “It is a bit of lavender,” Fleur said. She smiled and gestured to the lavender growing behind them, around a variety of other flowers and herbs.

“Oh!” It was a plant that Fleur had decided they should have. She’d insisted that it was pretty and that it would blend wonderfully with some of their other plants. And, next to the house on both sides, they did. “It tastes wonderful.”

“It’s supposed to help people relax and think,” Fleur said. She smiled. Hermione had been surprised this whole time how much Fleur knew about flowers and Herbology. But really, she shouldn’t be; Fleur had been, and, Hermione guessed, always would be, full of surprises. “I thought of you when I suggested planting it.”

“Why, because I’m so easily stressed?” Fleur had now stepped onto dangerous ground.

“No, Hermione,” Fleur said. She squeezed Hermione closer. “Because I know that you would like everything to go perfect, and I think that you deserve to have something nice to relax with when things do not always go according to plan.”

“Like these bloody violets,” Hermione said. She took another sip of tea, glaring daggers down at the plants. Fleur was out of trouble, but the violets weren’t. “I don’t think they’ll _ever_ grow.”

Fleur took her arm away from Hermione and reached down with both hands to lift the pot. She stared at it for awhile, her face in an obvious look of concentration. Fleur’s lips were pursed, her brows knit, and she looked beautiful in a way that was altogether different from her normal carefree looks. Hermione took another sip from her cup while she waited.

“Perhaps they just need to grow inside,” Fleur suggested, after a bit. “They are a sign of courtship and love, and while this garden is wonderful, it really is, perhaps they would flourish better inside of our house.”

“Where our love has roots.” Hermione said the words slowly, and then set her tea cup down and snatched up the book. She flipped through the chapters until she found the section she was looking for, about how to show your plant love.

She’d been frustrated because she’d thought she’d done everything she could. But re-reading, she realized that she’d misinterpreted what the book claimed was the most important part: to show a plant love was to put it in an environment that would help its essence to thrive. She’d thought it had meant weather conditions, but she could see now where she was wrong.

If violets were for female lovers, than what better place for their essence to thrive than in the home of two witches in love? Laughing, Hermione set the book down and leaned over and kissed Fleur, their lips meeting harshly with Hermione’s excitement. “That’s it!” She kissed her again, and Fleur nipped Hermione’s lower lip when she pulled away. “Fleur, you’re a genius.”

That last part was said a bit breathlessly, because Hermione loved it when Fleur nipped at and nibbled on her.

“Of course I am, Hermione,” Fleur said, rising with the plant, and beckoning for Hermione to follow. “How else would I keep up with someone as smart as you?”

Hermione blushed, and balanced their cups and the book on their way back inside. They were supposed to have Bill and Harry over for dinner in an hour, so Hermione merely set the violets down near their window before hurrying to help Fleur prepare dinner.

She was so distracted getting handsy with Fleur while trying not to burn their meal that she didn’t even notice the violets starting to grow, just a little, just enough.


End file.
